


Valentine

by doridoripawaa



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Jealousy, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 09:27:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29062068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doridoripawaa/pseuds/doridoripawaa
Summary: MC can't help but notice all of the Valentine's gifts that Zen has been bringing home. Surely, she is still his one and only valentine... right?
Relationships: Zen | Ryu Hyun/Main Character
Kudos: 23





	Valentine

_Friday, February 11._

_One._

On what should have been an average Thursday evening, Zen entered the living room with a bouquet of red roses in his hands. MC wasn’t unaccustomed to seeing him with handfuls of daisies, tulips, or carnations, but red roses were… a little disconcerting, to say the least. Despite herself, she couldn’t prevent her nose from crinkling slightly at the sight of them.

“Hey, babe. Why do you have a sour look on your face?” The soft, sing-song voice of the musical actor traveled through the air, and even his teasing words had such a rhythmic lull to them that MC couldn’t help but smile. The corners of her mouth twitched upward as he approached, gently placed the bouquet on the coffee table, and kneeled in front of her, lowering himself so that they were eye level. “That’s much better, princess,” he cooed. “Seriously though,” he went on, rising to his full height, “is something wrong? Do I need to take the trash out?” He began to back towards the kitchen, his nose twitching as he inhaled deeply.

“It’s nothing,” the young woman tried to reassure him, but a small doubt lingered in the back of her mind: perhaps she just wanted to reassure herself.

She couldn’t keep my eyes off of those blood-colored blooms, especially not after he picked out a vase for them and placed them directly on the kitchen counter.

_Saturday, February 12._

_Three._

A spritz. A wipe. A sneeze. A sigh.

Dusting was probably one of MC’s least favorite activities on the face of the planet, but she had noticed that Zen’s allergies were bothering him the night before.

As much as she wanted to attribute his sudden sniffles to that curious cluster of crimson roses, she knew that the more likely reason was that the pair simply had not had the time to properly clean the apartment in…

She swallowed hard. Had it been _that_ long?

In any event, she was determined to make their cozy home glisten from top to bottom as she awaited Zen’s arrival. His attention to detail was absolutely immaculate; whether he was acting, working out, or merely carrying out mundane daily tasks, he was an absolute perfectionist.

(Fitting, for he was absolute perfection himself.)

Knowing the type of keen eye she was up against, MC was exceptionally careful not to skip any speck of dust, not to miss any molecule, not to forget any frame of furniture.

Flowers could brighten up a home, but she was going to pour in her hard labor to ensure that the home itself sparkled in a way that outshone even a bouquet of red roses.

“Wow,” a whistle sounded from the front entrance, but MC continued to clean. “Cinderella, don’t you need a break? Now that your prince has arrived, it’s time for the ball.”

Cheesy as always.

MC barely stifled a laugh as she shook her head. “Let me finish this table,” she declared, “and then I suppose I can turn into a princess for… your… sake…” She had lifted her head to cast a beaming smile at him, a smile through all the dust and dirt and grime and grease that coated her face.

That smile nearly evaporated when she saw the two boxes of chocolates in his arms. Not one, but two. She mustered all of the strength that she could to keep a semblance of a smile on her face, but she had no doubt that it must have come off as colder than she would have intended.

“Hey, do you like raspberry, my love?” Zen asked. He placed one of the boxes—an unassuming rectangular box—on the kitchen counter. However, as he flipped the heart-shaped box over in his long, slender hands, MC could feel her own heart flip over as well inside her chest. “One of my coworkers in this new musical gave me a box of raspberry-crème filled chocolates, but I’m not really a fan of the flavor.”

“I do,” MC murmured, unable to pull her gaze away from the pretty pink box of chocolates in Zen’s hands. “Your cast must like you very much,” she added as nonchalantly as possible before turning back to scrub a particularly stubborn stain on the leg of the table.

Raspberry. A fruit that was simultaneously sweet and sour, fiercely fresh and then tantalizingly tart.

How fitting for the way she felt tonight.

_Sunday, February 13._

_Six._

The slow creaking of the door on its rusty hinges reverberated around the room, silent aside from the low hum of the stovetop and the sizzles and cracks of the frying pan.

“Zenny!” MC called excitedly, not taking her eyes off of the eggs that she was cooking meticulously. Zen liked his eggs a little runny, whereas MC liked hers a little on the crispier side, so she always made sure to prepare his eggs first.

Plus, tonight the young woman was a little… eager to impress him.

Fresh flowers in the living room. Sweet smells in the kitchen.

Everything they could do, she could do better. At least, that was the goal.

“Dinner is almost ready,” she went on, and carefully she brought the heat down to a low simmer. “Yours will be done first, but since the pan is already hot, I won’t be too far behind you.” She dared to take a peek at him, tearing her eyes away from the stovetop for just a moment.

At least, she thought it was only a moment, because as soon as her gaze rested upon the objects cradled in her beloved’s arms, time seemed to freeze.

“Should I… prepare an extra plate?” she murmured, and even though every one of her vocal cords strained to add an amused, teasing, lighthearted quality to her voice, she couldn’t help but hear how pained she truly was. Her tone, her expression, her posture—without a doubt, they would all reveal to Zen just how deflated she truly felt.

“Oh, for this guy?” Zen tried to shift all of his belongings into one arm so that he could rub the back of his head sheepishly. “Yeah, one of the stagehands gave him to me.” He then used his free hand to pluck a (rather large) teddy bear from his arm and hold it out in front of him. “I’ve never even heard her speak before today, but the director gave us the day off tomorrow, so I suppose she felt… a little emboldened by the occasion.” He chuckled and shook his head. “She’s a sweet girl, but an odd one at th—Hey, MC, are you feeling okay? You look really pale.” At once, Zen dropped his gifts onto the couch and scurried into the kitchen. “Let me—”

MC spun around and turned her attention back to the eggs. “I’m fine,” she told him, and she winced as she realized how terse she sounded. “I’m just hungry.”

Zen didn’t seem convinced by her paltry acting, but nevertheless he obliged. “Can I help, Princess?”

MC just shook her head and reached for the spatula. “Just get ready. I don’t want your eggs to get cold. There’s beer in the fridge, too,” she added. “Your favorite.”

A bear. A candle. An envelope. All intruders into their happy home.

Hopefully his eggs wouldn’t taste too salty from the tears dripping down her cheeks.

_Monday, February 14._

Mondays were exceptionally difficult to endure. The beginning of the workweek was always a hassle. Even though Zen may have had a day off from rehearsals, as his manager, MC still had contracts to negotiate and schedules to plan. Normally, she would have been able to persevere through the day with the thought of a delightful date awaiting her when she arrived home…

But given the events of the past couple of days, she couldn’t even relish in the fact that today was Valentine’s Day.

Zen had pronounced his love for her loudly and clearly at the RFA party, so why did girls still feel the urge to shower him in gifts? Were they just expressing respect and admiration, or did they have ulterior motives? This level of paranoia was unusual, and MC felt sick to her stomach at how negative she was being. She could handle stress. She could handle rigorous work. She could handle mystery. She could handle false allegations of sexual harassment, for God’s sake.

So why was she so vulnerable this Valentine’s Day, when she knew how much Zen loved her?

“I need to take a nice, long bath,” she murmured as she rummaged around in her bag for her keys. “Goodness, I really need to cut my bangs. I can hardly see into my own purse.” The faint starlight overhead hardly provided her with any assistance. Just how late had she stayed discussing Zen’s newest performance offer?

Finally she managed to withdraw the keys to the apartment, and carefully she inserted them into the door. Their apartment was somewhat on the older side, so every now and then the door would be stubborn and require a bit of elbow grease in order to open, but much to her surprise, it slid open with ease tonight.

Even more surprising was the scene that awaited her.

The lights were off, but candlelight provided a low, hazy guide to the layout of the apartment. Sweet scents of cinnamon and vanilla wafted in the air, drifting lazily from the candles to her unprepared nose. A mellow melody echoed throughout the apartment, and at once she recognized the aria from one of Zen’s most popular musicals: Zorro. A faint blush rose to her cheeks as she imagined the poster for that particular play.

Zen himself, however, was nowhere in sight.

“Zenny?” MC called out hesitantly, brushing her bangs out of her face as she took a humble step forward. Her breath caught in her throat as she heard a soft crunch underneath her feet; rose petals littered the ground, lining out a path for her to follow.

Apparently the kitchen was not part of that path.

“Alright, alright, I’ll play along,” she mumbled, and for the first time in days, she could feel a little spark of laughter rising inside her chest. “Zenny?” she called out again as she slung her purse off of her shoulder and delicately reached over to place it on a chair within her reach. “This is awfully extravagant, even for you,” she commented. Not that she didn’t like it—quite the contrary. With every step she took, heading deeper into the labyrinth that he had prepared, she caught whiff of new smells and sight of new décor: cherry blossom and sweet pea tickled her nose while photographs and posters awaited her eyes. Scenes of the two of them on the set, selfies of the two of them on their dates. The idea of Zen plastering pictures of himself around the apartment did not surprise her, but what did catch her off guard was that in at least 70% of them… she was beside him.

That was saying something, considering how many selfies he took.

Finally the rose petals came to an end before the bedroom door. Zen must have been waiting for her in there, right? “I’m coming in,” MC announced, but she still didn’t receive a reply. The only response came from the music humming around the apartment: Zen’s voice, without a doubt, but not actually directed at her.

One. Two. Three.

She inhaled and exhaled deeply before turning the doorknob and entering the room.

However, what awaited her on Zen’s bed was not at all what she expected to see. Instead of his familiar face, she spotted a teddy bear sitting there, staring up at her with button eyes and a gentle grin. It was the same teddy bear from yesterday, but in its paws it held a note specifically directed at her:

“Bonjour, mademoiselle MC.”

MC chuckled as she read the note. “Feeling French tonight, monsieur?” she murmured. She gently petted the teddy bear’s head, and as she picked it up to give it a soft squeeze, she noticed that a plate was sitting behind it on the duvet. “What in the world…?”

Should she laugh? Cry? Shake her head? All of the above?

A plate lined with chocolates around the edges, and in the middle was a cluster of fish-shaped buns in the shape of a heart.

“I hope our cuisine is to your taste, madam.”

MC whirled around at the sound of that voice, a sweet symphony to her ears. The man of the hour had arrived, the mastermind behind this entire display. Zen awaited her, adorning a dress shirt, tie, and a pair of freshly pressed slacks. “Too much?” he guessed, and he dropped the lofty tone from his voice with a laugh. “You’ve been working hard. Too hard. I…” He began to fiddle with the edges of his sleeves. “I’ve been a little insensitive, bringing all of those gifts home.”

MC felt a pang in her chest. Had she been that obvious? “You shouldn’t have to hide anything from me,” she insisted, trying to comfort him. “Plus, I know how popular you are. I see it at work.”

Zen considered her words for a moment, scratching his chin thoughtfully. “Yes, well, that still doesn’t mean I should flaunt them in your face… unless they’re for you, and not for me.”

The young woman furrowed her brow as she tried to make sense of his words. “For me?” she echoed. Realization suddenly dawned upon her like the sun cresting the horizon, and she clapped her hands over her mouth to suppress her gasp. The rose petals. The candles. The teddy bear. The chocolates. “You… Zen, you…”

“Oh, don’t cry!” Zen exclaimed, rushing forward to dab at her cheeks. “Oh God, don’t cry. Look at my face—that will make you smile. Well, wait, God made a mistake when creating me, so you might cry tears of joy. Oh, this is a pickle….”

That low rumble from before, that little spark of joy and laughter, rose up in her chest and tickled her throat until it finally poured out from her lips in the form of a gleeful giggle. “Never change, Zen,” she whispered. ‘Never change from the thoughtful, loving man that you are,’ she added silently.

“On stage, I will be Zen, and I will change into whomever the crowd wants to see,” he murmured, and suddenly he leaned in until his lips were nearly pressed against hers, so that she could feel his hot breath tickling her skin. “But for you, my valentine, I will always be Hyun Ryu.”


End file.
